


The Confessional

by Elijah_Dentwood



Series: Absolute Corruption [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Begging, Biting, Demon Dean Winchester, Dominance, Face-Fucking, First Time, M/M, Masturbation, Priests, Submissive/Bottom Castiel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-27
Updated: 2013-02-27
Packaged: 2017-12-03 19:28:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,627
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/701821
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elijah_Dentwood/pseuds/Elijah_Dentwood
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean is a demon who only meant to bother Father Castiel until he gives in, but he finds he can't leave him alone.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

'You'll find the Confessional very quiet in this parish, Father Novak'. Father Davies was a tall plump man, with a wheezing chest. He was breathless as they walked the length of the church and knelt at the alter to sign the cross. 

Castiel could think of no reply that didn't sound critical so simply said, 'I see.'

'Watch out for the Soccer Moms,' Father Davies said as though imparting profound wisdom, 'oh, and old Mrs Summers.' 

Castiel smiled awkwardly, 'I'm sorry Father, I don't...' the older Priest began to cough and continued until he turned red. 

'Sorry about that,' Father Davies said shaking his head, 'what was I saying? Oh, right. You've probably had the issue in your old parish, but you know some of these women just can't resist a young man who's off limits.' 

Castiel laughed, 'Oh my last parish was very elderly.' 

'Well this one can move fast, so watch yourself.'

~~ 

'Give thanks to the Lord, for He is good,' Castiel says, crossing himself as he speaks. 

'For His mercy endures forever,' comes the tearful reply. The woman doesn't leave and Castiel doesn't speak, allowing her a moment to compose herself.  
'Thank you, Father,' she says quietly, then leaves. 

Cas frowns at the door of his confessional. Father Davies' comments about the Confessional have not held true for long. Castiel has only completed Mass twice before he's forced to open up further confessional slots. People have always loved talking to him; he has one of those faces, his mother always says. Castiel isn't really sure what that means, but he trusts that it was a quality he ought to use in love and honor of God. 

If there are any of the soccer moms Father Davies mentioned, Castiel isn't any more aware of them than the rest of the congregation. 

Confession is something that Castiel has always treasured as part of his job; it reminds him of the fragility of human mortality, and the all forgiving nature of the Lord. Most of all it connects him with others in a way that life outside the church (as he recalled it) never has. Here the most raw, painful moments of lives are poured out to him for consideration and forgiveness. He feels their pain, and that he is offering them not only his own hand but God's too. 

Of course, that had been before him. The creature. The Demon. His destruction and salvation. 

Castiel is tired. He's slept poorly the night before, and Mass this morning has not livened his spirit as it usually does. There has already been six to confession tonight, and he's somewhat pleased there's no Mass to follow. 

When a seventh opens the confessional door and kneels at the screen Castiel crosses himself, noting mentally that it's unfair of him to want to sigh as the words come.  
'Forgive me father for I have sinned...' Castiel doesn't recognize the voice, but he isn't familiar with everyone in his parish yet, 'this is my first confession.' 

Castiel frowns and leans closer to the screen, 'I'm sorry, did you say your first?' he asks. 

'Yeah, as in...never done it before. Not really sure how it works to be honest with you. I mean, should I be down here or on the chair?' 

Castiel sits back in surprise. His features soften; this doesn't happen often, but he supposes he's just looking for someone to listen. 

'Why don't you take a seat,' he suggests. 

'All right, your call.' There is movement and then a man sat opposite him. The confessional boxes are poorly lit, but Castiel can see they are roughly the same age. The man is dressed decently enough, though there is the slight smell of liquor. 

'Are you Catholic?' Castiel asks. 

'Nope,' says the man. He is peering through the gap, into Castiel's side of the confessional. People didn't usually like to look at him too closely in here, even if they didn't want to use the screen. No one liked to feel judged, not by another man, and sometimes of course people were embarrassed. 

'You wish to make confession however?' the man edges closer on his seat to the middle of the box and Castiel resists the urge to move away. 'Do you...believe in the act of confession, and understand it's significance?' Castiel asks, a little too quickly. 

'Shut up,' the man says calmly, 'I'm making my confession.' Castiel supposes he can hear what the man has to say without performing the sacrament, though he is sorely tempted to flee the confessional and call 911. 

'I came to watch you give Mass last night. That's what you call it right? It said so on the board, on the front. And man, I gotta tell ya, it was....somethin' else,' the man says, smiling as though recalling it. 

'Thank you,' Castiel says quietly, though this doesn't sound like a confession or a compliment he wants to hear.

'Anyway, it was just something about your fucking _mouth_ , and...you really believe, don't you?' 

Castiel's breath is caught in his chest. For a moment he's frozen to his seat in surprise, then he charges forward out of the confessional box. Fortunately the church is empty, this man his last confession of the day. Inside the box the man says something, but it's muffled. 

'I'm going to have to ask you to leave,' Castiel says loudly, clearly. The man tells him his name is Dean before he leaves the church.

A few days go by and Castiel hasn't forgotten about the strange visitor to his confessional box. He is nearing the end of Mass one Sunday morning when he thinks he catches a glimpse of him at the back, but if it is the same man he's gone before Castiel has chance to do anything and he so desperately wants to do something.  
Those words have been caught in his mind, _it was just something about your fucking mouth, and you really believe, don't you?'_. The words keep creeping into his mind at the most inopportune moments and sending a flush into his face.

Later on the evening of the same Sunday Castiel leads a short round of prayers and bids the few who have come out a good night. It's a harsh winter and today the snow has set in.

This time he's alone in the church when Dean comes. He's kneeling at the alter in silent reflection, calming himself for an evening to do whatever he wishes before the week begins again. He hears the footsteps before they reach him, crosses himself and stands.  
'Evening, Father Novak,' he greets. 

'Dean,' Castiel says in return. His cell phone is in the pocket of his jeans, but he doesn't want to provoke Dean by reaching for it. He doesn't know if the man is violent, but he'd prefer to resolve things by Dean leaving himself. 

'I've been thinking,' Dean muses, standing beside him at the alter. Castiel swallows, thinking of his own less than pure thoughts.

'Oh yes?' Castiel says, unsure whether he should entertain him or act as though he doesn't care. Maybe this man is crazy, or just strange, but Castiel can't be too quick to judge. Perhaps there is something Dean really does want to tell him and this is a front. 

'Have you ever performed an exorcism?' Dean asks. It is the last thing Castiel expects and he laughs despite himself. Dean is smirking. 

'No, no I'm afraid I haven't, I'm just...a regular Priest, and really it's a terribly outdated notion...' Castiel explains palms up. 

'Good,' Dean says approvingly, 'you know I'd hate to think of you mixed up in all of that.' He moves a little closer to Castiel, 'you're supposed to save souls, aren't you? Not send them to Hell.' 

The protective, approving tone grates on Castiel. He's a Priest, not a child. He can become involved in anything he wants to, and whilst it's true that he has a duty to his parishioners (which possibly includes Dean) he can really become 'mixed up' in anything he likes. Pending church approval, of course.  
'Is there something I can help you with?' Castiel says finally, plainly. He's tired of playing this stranger's game and though it is probably unforgivably selfish of him, he wants to reach the point, so that something can be done. 

'Don't be angry,' says Dean. He is close and looking at Castiel in a way that makes him shiver. It is the look he sometimes sees when he feeds the homeless or poor when they haven't eaten for a long time. It's predatory, raw, primal. 'Cas,' Dean whispers, leaning close to his cheek. It's a familiar nickname and the intimacy of it makes his breath hitch. 

'Please,' Castiel says, because his strength and resolve seem to have left him 'I'm not...I just wanted to...' 

Dean smiles, so close that Castiel could begin counting eyelashes. 'All right,' he says quietly, 'but you're going to miss me, and I'll be thinking of you. See you next Sunday, Father?'

Dean leaves and Castiel sinks back down to his knees. He crosses himself and begins to mumble the Our Father. A long and restless night follows. 

_'I've been thinking of you.'_

_It's not that their bodies fit together, it's that their limbs are tangled and they are pressed so tightly together that Cas can hardly breathe. Dean is kissing him like it's supposed to hurt, biting down hard on his lower lip._

_'Your fucking mouth'_

_Somehow Dean's head is between his legs, and he's swirling his tongue the head of his cock. He's pressing small kisses against his balls, and then his tongue is slipping down further, teasing at the rim of his..._

Cas gives a gasped moan as he wakes. His hand is sticky and still gripping his softening cock. He gets out of bed quickly, managing to get to the shower without looking at himself or remembering a towel. 

It's a long while before Cas can accept the dream. He's been so careful his whole life not to let lust creep in. He knows it's a natural part of him, but it's also his task to resist that of which God does not approve. God doesn't approve of Cas' orgasm being spent into his hand whilst he dreams, and He definitely does not approve of the content of his dreams. 

Cas has always known that sexually he prefers men, but he has simply seen it as a challenge God has set before him, in the same way he has any other man. He has sworn a vow to never marry, to never engage in intercourse, and he has found little need to talk of it with others.  
He is angry and frustrated that he can't control his dreams, but he has not deliberately set about either the thoughts or the act, so he thinks that God probably will forgive him eventually. 

The week is spent in quiet, prayerful reflection. He can find forgiveness, but he can't shake the part of him that is willing away the week. He tells himself that it's curiosity driving him towards Dean's next visit – he promises himself that this time he will get to the bottom of what is troubling the other man, that he owes it to him. 

'I think, perhaps, we made a bad start,' Cas says, staring straight ahead at the door of the confessional. Confession isn't usually held on a Sunday, and he's already said Mass twice but Cas is determined to put this right. 'I want to help, Dean. Why don't you tell me what brought you here?' 

'Are you sure you want to know, Father?' Dean asks, his tone laced with caution. 

Cas glances through the gap between the sections because everyone thinks their sin is the worst, that they are more terrible than the man behind them. He nods.  
'I've been here before. I killed the last Priest, and came to see how the new one was doing.' He says it so straight that Cas shakes his head.

'I'm sorry Dean, but I know that not to be true. Father Davies had cancer, in his lungs, he was leaving for treatment one evening and took a fall at the stairs...' It's tragic, but not murder. Cas frowns deeply; Dean must be very disturbed to claim to have done such a thing. 

There isn't time to say anything else before there are a series of bangs and the door of his confessional booth is open. Dean's hand grips the frame and he leans in towards Cas. 

'He didn't break his neck on the stairs. I snapped it and he fell,' Dean says. 

'Why would you say that?' Cas asks.

'Because it's true, Father.' 

Cas shakes his head again and stands, forcing his way past Dean. 'And if it is true...say I believe you, why would you do such a thing?' He couldn't have moved so fast but somehow Dean is already moving in front of him, blocking his way.

'Do you want the long answer, or the short answer?' Dean asks teasingly, a smile playing on his lips. 

Cas cringes because this is a man's life, and murder, and he doesn't know if Dean is insane or has a sense of humor that stretches beyond sick.  
'Short then,' Dean says, 'but not yet, Father. Can I pray with you?' 

Cas' mind is reeling. He ought to take Dean's confession but he doesn't seem at all contrite. He nods because he needs time, he needs to think and decide what is happening here. He can't bring himself to kneel before the alter with Dean, not yet. He sits on the nearest pew and nods towards the space next to him. 

Dean sits so close that their legs almost touch. He tilts his head towards Cas, 'I don't know how,' he confides in a quiet whisper. 

Cas licks his lips and tries to concentrate. The prayers will help his focus, they will help both of them. 'Just repeat what I say,' Cas says, his voice steady. 

Together they pray the Our Father, with Dean carefully repeating what Cas says. 

'Do you think that God would lead you into temptation, Father?' Dean asks, when the prayer is finished. Cas looks at him and considers the question. He doesn't know how to address it, because he still doesn't know if Dean is delusional or a murderer. He opens his mouth to speak but is interrupted by Dean. 

'I lied,' he says 'about Father Davies.' Cas' eyes closing for a moment in relief. When he opens them Dean has shifted even closer, is studying Cas carefully. 

Cas breathes carefully and tries so very hard not to see the man in front of him as anything other than someone who needs his help. Dean has lied terribly, but there is something so compelling about him. Lies can be forgiven. 

'Why did you lie?' Cas asks, looking at the mouth that has brought him so much pleasure in his dreams. 

Dean appears to consider the question then shrugs, 'I wanted to see what you'd do.' 

It seems like a cruel trick to play and Cas turns his head. 

'Don't turn away,' Dean says beside him. 

Cas feels something small but significant inside him give. The purity of thought he tries so hard to maintain, and the overwhelming desire to help others, to save them from themselves, they have all been betrayed. His eyes prickle but he clears his throat and determinedly looks back to Dean.

Dean's eyes are black. 

Cas' own eyes widen in surprise and mild horror; this isn't normal, this isn't....

'You _really_ believe,' Dean says, as the word 'demon' tumbles from Cas' own lips.


	2. Chapter Two

_Cas knows about angels. His mom tells him at night so he won't be scared that there's an angel for everyone, a special angel just for him, and the angel won't let anything bad happen. She tells him how beautiful they are, how much they love us, how strong and powerful God has made them to protect everyone. Cas knows she's right too, because he_ does _have his own angel, and now he knows more than his mom._

_The angel whispers to him at night, and sometimes appears in his room. The angel is just as beautiful as his mom said, and he never sleeps better than when the angel comes._

_When he mentions it to his mom she smiles and ruffles his hair, but his dad looks unhappy. Sometimes after he talks about it his mom and dad argue, so he learns not to say anything. He doesn't want them to fight. He keeps the visits to himself._

_The angel stops visiting as he gets older, though he never forgets, and the certain knowledge of his experience fuels his desire to learn more and eventually to try and lead others to the same happiness._

He can't look away from the black eyes. Random associations flit through his mind; _Trap and destroy them. Do not suffer them to walk the earth....Our Father Who Art in Heaven....'I believe you baby, about the angel. Your daddy, he just doesn't believe in anything.'...Their eyes will be black, hollow...Your_ fucking _mouth...'It's your fault he's the way he is.'.._

The demons eyes have returned to normal. Cas shakes his head, trying to clear it, trying to steer his brain into a decision. He should be afraid, he should be running away or attacking, but he's not. He's clear in his responsibility. 

'I can't let you leave here,' Cas says, fumbling into his pockets for his cross. The demon can't leave, can't be allowed out into the world. He can't be responsible for allowing this evil to carry on. 

'Are you asking me to stay over?' Dean asks, smiling wickedly. 

'You're evil,' it's a statement, not a question, but the demon appears to give it consideration. 

'No,' he says, 'I'm one of God's creatures too, just like you.' 

An intense debate circles around in Cas' head about the nature of evil created by God's hand, and by the hand of the beings he has created. He doesn't know whether God is responsible for the creation of that, but he supposes that he must be. 

'You're over-thinking this, Father,' Dean says, 'I'm proof in front of your eyes. Proof of God, doesn't that make you happy?' 

For the first time in years Cas thinks of his childhood, of the presence that used to come to him and the comfort he took from it. A dark haired man with a soft, kind voice and dark eyes that seemed to meld into the darkness, eyes as dark as Dean's. He thinks of his angel. His...demon. 

Cas' hand clamps over his mouth, holding in the anguish that threatens to scream out of him. How had he not known?

'Wrong side of the coin, huh?' Dean asks, leaning closer towards him. 'Sorry, you don't get to choose.' It sounds like the demon is trying to comfort him and that's about all Cas can take – demons are evil, they should torment, they should be pained simply by walking into his church and...the demon has said prayers alongside him. 

'You must be exorcised,' Cas says breathlessly. He can't do it himself, but if he can keep the demon here he can call someone, he can get help. 

'No one will believe you,' the voice is still soothing and even though he is the source of his distress, Cas wants to turn towards him, to bathe in the comfort being offered. 'They'll think you're mad. That's what most people think of guys like you, Father. The ones who really see, really believe.' 

The demon is right and Cas has no idea how he would explain this to anyone. He knows that he should feel ashamed of himself, for having been tricked. He had been a child before and how could he have known that his visitor wasn't really an angel? When he had read the descriptions of these creatures he never considered his own treasured memory. 

'What do you want?' Cas says finally, desperately. 

'You.' The demon reaches out and touches his arm, pulling him back against the pew. He is strong and lets Cas feel it in his grip. 'You're not going to tell anyone, because they won't believe you.' 

His childhood memory ought to be sullied now that he knows what his visitor really is. There is no angel watching over him, there has only been evil creeping into his bedroom and now into his life again. He can't bring himself to hate the memory. He wants to keep it, because it's his and it has shaped him. Cas forces himself to look at Dean – he won't tell anyone because he doesn't want to, he wants to keep this for himself.

'That's it,' the demon says, as though he can see him give. The demon...Dean...sounds affectionate and soothing still. No one will know and it has been so long since he's been physically affectionate with another person. Cas touches the hand that still rests on his arm and runs his hand along the sleeve of Dean's jacket.   
It is a simple touch but Dean takes it as a cue and too quickly he's pushed Cas down onto the pew, a move that squashes the air out of his lungs and makes him gasp for breath when Dean finds his mouth and kisses him hard. 

Dean pulls back and and stares at Cas' mouth whilst he gasps his breath back. 

'You want this,' Dean murmurs, lifting a hand so that he can trace Cas' lips with two fingers. Cas is flushed, and really does want this, so much that he isn't even ashamed that he's still wearing his cassock or that he's laid out on a pew of his church. 'Say it,' Dean demands, tilting his body to push them together. 

'Yes,' Cas says, trying hard not to move against Dean because he is so hard, and can't risk that Dean might stop. He has to make sure to do everything right, not a move without instruction. He needs this so much. 

'Get up,' Dean says, lifting himself so that Cas can move out from beneath him. 'Take off the cassock,' he instructs. Cas stands in front of him unmoving. 'What's the problem? Shy?' Dean asks, a smirk playing over his lips.

He isn't even naked beneath the cassock, but removing it will be removing his resolve against everything that is happening here. He has spent so long reassuring himself of the virtues of chastity, and now it's all breaking apart, and he so desperately wants it to that it's a physical pain in his chest. 

Cas unbuttons the cassock and folds it neatly over his arm. Beneath he wears a white shirt and black pants, simple clothing.

Dean licks his lips, 'and the rest, hurry up.' 

Somehow taking off his underwear in front of Dean is easier than it is to remove his cassock. No one else has seen him this way before; without a stitch of clothing, cock hard and leaking already. Dean looks him over and Cas holds his breath momentarily. The approval that spreads across Dean's face makes Cas' cock twitch in pleasure and longing. 

'Kneel,' Dean's voice is rough and low. 

He's willing to do anything Dean asks and kneeling here is such a familiar action that he is already moving before he realizes it. The demon slides from the pew and moves towards him. He moves a little faster than is normal and something about his movement is fluid and beautiful, and Cas can see how easily his body might just be a frame for his true form. 

When he's close enough to touch Dean unzips his jeans, pulling free his cock, just as hard as Cas' own. Cas keeps his chin tilted up so that he can look up at his face.   
Dean guides his cock at Cas' mouth. His lips part naturally as he pushes against them, smearing sticky pre-come across his mouth. Cas has never done this before, but he knows he'll figure it out. He darts his tongue out onto his lips and tastes Dean. 

'Open,' he instructs from above. Cas feels fingers working through his hair, threading through it and twisting against the thickest parts. Dean holds his head firmly still and pushes his cock into Cas' mouth, all the way so that it hits the soft flesh at the back. Cas jerks backwards but Dean holds him still and after a moment it's fine – Cas swallows against the odd intrusion, letting his tongue feel around the curve of Dean's flesh. Above him Dean is saying something, groaning something. Cas makes a noise of agreement and is rewarded by the tips of Dean's fingers curling against his scalp. 

Cas opens his mouth wider as Dean pulls back, realizing to keep his teeth clear, but Dean hasn't pulled out all of the way before he slams into him again. Cas has to swallow quickly when Dean pulls back because the demon isn't pausing at all. He holds his head still as he can, fingers entwined in Cas' dark hair whilst he thrusts into his mouth over and over. 

Unable to resist, Cas lets his hand stray down to his own straining cock. He looks up at Dean, seeking permission but finding only a concentrated lust in Dean's eyes. He grips himself tight but doesn't dare do anything more. 

The want in Dean's eyes keeps Cas' eyes focused on him. He feels as though he were the center of the universe, as though he were the demon's everything. 

He listens to Dean's half-formed sentences, switching back and forth between almost violent outbursts of pleasure and the sort of sweet nothings that he would have excepted to be whispered between young lovers. The snippets that he catches clearly Cas holds in his mind, treasuring them because they are for _him_. 

Shortly Dean loses his rhythm, jerking into his mouth with desperate motions. Cas swallows best he can and wipes his mouth after Dean pulls out. 

Cas watches with mild surprise as Dean gets onto his knees himself. He slides closer and wraps his hand around Cas' cock, now so desperate for his touch that Cas' eyes close briefly as the warmth of Dean's hand encircles him. 

'Tell me what you want,' Dean says, gripping on Cas' hair again with his free hand and pulling him closer. 

'I want....' Dean's grip feels so good he can hardly breathe and Cas doesn't know that his body can cope with more.

Dean pulls their mouths together and kisses him slowly and tenderly. The way you should kiss someone you love, Cas thinks. He hates that thought, the ridiculousness of it. Dean tugs at Cas' hair and pulls him harder into the kiss, probing at his tongue with his own. His grip on Cas' cock is gone, and there is just their mouths pressing together now. Cas kisses as though his life depends on it, resisting gripping onto Dean and thrusting against him. 

Dean draws away and looks Cas over, giving a smile that brightens his eyes. Then Dean gets up, he turns around and leaves quickly. In the time he had gotten to the door Cas has managed to grab his pants and call after him, but he's gone. 

Cas' lips are sore from Dean's ministrations and his jaw has a dull ache. He can't allow himself to dwell on anything that has just happened. He gathers his clothes and walks quickly to the shower. Once everything is back in order, he'll deal with it. 

Twenty minutes later he's still sat beneath the shower, wondering what he'll do if Dean never comes back.


	3. Chapter Three

Dean's gone back to the church several times now, and each time he thinks it'll be the last. He never returns to a human he's fucked repeatedly, but with Cas there's something new each time. He teases the Priest so much, but he's teasing himself more. Finding out he's a virgin makes it such a treat, and Dean doesn't plan on wasting that. 

When he walks into the church this time Cas is waiting for him, sat in the front pew. Today he's going to give Cas a treat; he's going to get him off. So far he's only let him jerk himself off in front of him. He walks down the church with a swagger, till he reaches the front and takes a proper look at Cas. 

'Hey Cas,' he says. He's not wearing his cassock, just his usual underneath wear of a white shirt and black pants. His hair is messy and he looks like he hasn't slept in days. Dean wants to tell him to sort it the fuck out, but Cas looks kind of vulnerable and he likes it. 

Cas looks up, blue eyes so sad they'd probably pull on Dean's feelings if they weren't blunted. 'I can't do it anymore,' Cas says, 'you're what you are, and nothing else. I'm...a lie.' 

Dean raises his eyebrows, not really sure what he's talking about. 'Forget about that,' he soothes, sitting down next to the disheveled man. 

'I can't just forget,' Cas says, turning to him. He slides off the pew and kneels at the floor by Dean's leg, 'help me disappear,' he says pleadingly. 

'And why would you wanna do that, Cas?' Dean asks, running his hand over the ruffled hair at Cas' temple and down his cheek. 

'My whole life is....' Cas shakes his head, looking confused. Dean wonders if he's broken him. Maybe he's pushed him too far. 'You're not the first demon I've met,' he says in a breathless rush, 'when I was a child I thought I was being visited by an angel, and that made me believe. Really believe. When I met you and realized...I wish I could take it all back, Dean. I wish I could start again. The people here deserve better, someone who could have...' Dean watches Cas swallow hard and he doesn't need to finish the sentence. Of course Cas feels guilty for not killing him, certainly feels guilty for letting him fuck him, but this is new – another demon. 

'You thought a demon was an angel,' Dean says, dead pan. 

'I was five, six...I didn't know, my mom said...' Cas flushes and stops talking. 

'Yeah, well your mom was wrong. You were wrong, does it matter?' Dean snaps, he's getting impatient with all this crap, and whilst Cas' pitiful expression has it's own charms, he's fed up of the complaining. It feels ungrateful, given what he was going to give to Cas. 

'Like I said, I just wish I could start again,' Cas says, and he sounds defeated now. Dean decides this is going to work out after all, today he's going to leave Cas floored.  
Dean crooks a finger towards himself. Cas tilts his head, confusion spreading in his expression. Cas stands and before he can move closer Dean makes quick work of taking off his pants, pleased to find he hasn't bothered with underwear. He guides Cas onto him so his knees are on the pew either side of him, Cas' ass on his crotch. 

Dean presses his lips against Cas' jaw. His cheeks are shadowed but there's no sharp stubble. He runs his tongue along his jawline then kisses his neck until he finds the quickened thump of Cas' pulse. 

Cas' white shirt is long enough to cover his hard-on. Dean slides his hand under the material and wraps his hand around his cock. Cas pushes forward a little but he doesn't move much, and Dean knows he'll let him just hold him for an age if he wants. 

' _Beg,_ ' Dean whispers. He nips at the soft skin of Cas' throat, 'beg me to touch you.' 

'Please,' Cas breathes. 

'Mmm?' Dean flexes his fingers against Cas' cock. It's thick and warm in his grip. 

'Please touch me, Dean. _Please_.' His begging could use some improvement, but his eyes are sincere and wide with need. Dean slides his hand up and down Cas' length. Cas' mouth opens a little and his eyes are still desperate and maybe now shocked too. 

Dean pulls him in closer so that he can pay attention to his neck again. The warmth of Cas' skin feels good against his mouth and it feels even better when he bites down, marking his skin where he knows it'll show above the collar of his cassock.

Cas jerks backwards, pain mixing with the pleasure in his expression. He's bitten too hard and there are small indents in Cas' throat with blood welling in them. He flings himself back at Dean as though he's scared to be so far away. A trembling hand reaches out and Dean lets Cas touch him because an idea is worming into his consciousness. 

Soft fingers trace over his face, across his cheeks and the outline of his lips. He doesn't even stop Cas when he starts tugging at his shirt, pulling it upwards so that he can touch his chest. Dean continues to stroke Cas' cock, nurturing the idea building in his mind. Cas presses himself so hard against Dean that he has to move his hand, and Cas finishes against his abs, hands gripping at whatever he can touch as he rides out his orgasm. 

Dean smiles and holds Cas against him. He's making small keening noises that fade as he presses his face against Dean's collar. 

That night Dean stays in Cas' bed for a while. It's small and Cas sleeps tightly against his back, face tucked in against the back of his neck. There's a limp arm tossed over his side, hand dangling onto his stomach. 

He slides out from under the arm and gets to his feet quietly. Cas is sleeping deeply, peacefully. Dean walks from the room barefooted. This idea that formed whilst Cas orgasmed, it's become an obsession. Dean knows now, he doesn't just want to fuck the sweet-mouthed Priest, he wants to corrupt and condemn. He wants Cas to despair and fall. 

He. goes out into the night and summons Crowley. He appears quickly, looking irritable. 

'Dean Winchester,' he says in greeting, 'missed me?' 

Dean rolls his eyes, 'why would I miss you?' 

'Can't make a deal, so....' Crowley shrugged and indicated himself. As though Dean had any interest in the conniving kiss-ass. 

'Actually, it is about a deal,' Dean says. Crowley perks up and looks interested. 

~

Dean sitting on the bed is enough to wake Cas, who obviously isn't used to sharing. He looks up, bleary eyes and ruffled hair. 'Hmf?' he says. 

'I've been thinking, Cas,' Dean says. He lays back down next to him and Cas curls against his chest. 

'Hm,' Cas says, and Dean's annoyed. All this he's done and Cas isn't even paying attention. He sits bolt upright, pulls his legs up and lets his arms rest on his knees. 

'Dean?' Cas says 'what's going on?' 

'I said I'm gonna help,' Dean says, and it is helping of a sort. Cas doesn't want this life, he said so himself. Dean's giving him the freedom to be himself, to have everything he wants. 

Cas rubs his left eye, trying to wake up a bit 'how?' he asks.

'A...friend of mine, Crowley,' Dean says, though his smile falters as he describes Crowley as a friend. 'He can make a deal with you, give you what you want,' he says encouragingly. 'He's waiting in your office, Cas. All you gotta do is say yes.' 

'What I want,' Cas mumbles. He looks at Dean searchingly. 'I want to be right again.' 

'You don't want do be a Priest anymore, do you...' Dean says, not so much a question than a prompt. 

'I...I suppose not,' Cas says. He grips on his bed sheet and looks down. 

'It's okay, Cas. You're not making a bad choice, you're making a good choice,' Cas nods and looks up a little. Dean can't believe how easy it is to comfort him, how Cas seems so eager to take his instruction. 

Crowley's deal is for a year – he tells Cas that after a year he'll take payment, but Cas shouldn't worry about that now. It's not a big issue. For that Crowley will change his life; no one will remember that he used to be Father Castiel Novak, and no one will be surprised that he owns his own apartment, has a job in the library in town. It's Dean he looks to for reassurance and after a small nod Crowley presses his lips to Cas', lingering a little too long. 

He smirks at Dean before he leaves, 'I'll pass your love to your brother,' he says. 

Crowley is gone, and Dean says they should leave soon. He has the apartment address on a piece of paper in his pocket. 

~

Cas leaves a trail of wet footprints from his shower into the bedroom. The towel meant for his body is draped over his head. He rubs at his hair furiously, enjoying the moment's disorientation that follows. He pulls the towel off his head, meaning to wrap it around his waist but something catches his eye on the bed. 

He jumps, startled and takes a step back, hands balling into fists. Quickly he realizes that it's Dean laying on his bed; thumbing through one of his books. 

'Dean,' Cas breathes. He wraps the towel around him now, the usual mixture of feeling at the sight of Dean sinking from his chest down to his stomach. 

He goes to the side of the bed and kneels, head bowed slightly. That's what he always does until Dean's ready to talk, or just to get started. It's their routine, and Cas knows it the same way he knows the rosary. The very idea that he has a routine with Dean is enough to trip his brain into guilt and fear. The familiarity of it soothes him now, and perhaps that's the plan of the devil, to make it feel normal and _fine_. 

He hears the book drop and Dean shift. Nothing about what they do is fine. Cas lives every day knowing that it's wrong, but when Dean visits he can't deny him. He lifts his head up a little because Dean hasn't said anything and hasn't touched him either. 

Dean pats the bed beside him. This is different. He slips the towel off because it will only frustrate Dean and sits on the bed beside him. A moment later and Dean is straddling him, kissing him. His eyes are black, and this is different too. Occasionally his eyes will change just as he hits orgasm, but not now, not at the beginning. Cas can feel his heart pounding. 

Cas has learned that most of Dean's feelings are surface, but he's always been able to read something in his face even if it's a lie. With his eyes pure black Cas is cast into the dark, unable to probe any further than the knowledge that Dean wants him. 

'You know how long it's been?' Dean murmurs, lips pressed now against Cas' jawline.

The date hasn't escaped Cas' notice. He knows it's been a year since they left the church and Dean brought him here; since he started this new life that is both honest and deeply sinful at once. His heart sinks because he knows Dean can't be bringing it up for a reason that will make either of them content. 

'How long I've waited,' he says, and now his eyes are back to normal. Cas' worry eases, he lets his head sink further into the pillow. 

Dean moves off him and back onto the other side of the bed. He takes off all of his clothes. When he moves next he's kneeling between Cas' legs. His right hand moves to rest on the inside of Cas' thigh and he feels his breathing hitch. Their moves are usually orchestrated; Dean names the move and Cas makes it. When Dean touches him it's as though the demon has decided to put aside the rule book, as though anything could happen. 

'Pull up your legs,' Dean says, guiding Cas' legs up so that they're bent at the knee. Cas wants to draw them together, feeling exposed, but Dean is sat right in the middle. He can feel heat in his cheeks as Dean looks down. Cas wills the blush to go but Dean notices and edges his knees backwards, lifting his legs into the air.

'Can't hide anything from me Cas,' Dean says, and the twist of his lips is so predatory that there's a cold feeling in the pit of Cas' stomach even as his cock twitches in approval. Dean slides his legs onto his shoulders so they're supported and his hands are free. He runs his hands along the underside of his thighs and onto his ass, dragging his nails along the flesh of his buttocks. 

As he watches Cas realizes that Dean's eyes have returned to inky black and wonders how he could have missed it. He shudders when Dean's short nails scrape at his skin, and when they grip at his buttocks and part them. Dean dips down and licks at the innermost part of his thigh, right up where it meets with his crotch. Cas wants to shove his hands into Dean's hair but he doesn't dare. He holds his breath and keeps as still as he can. 

Dean looks up at him and Cas feels strange, as though his vision has blurred under Dean's gaze. He shakes his head a little and ignores it. 

For a moment Dean moves away from him and comes back with a small bottle of lube. Dean has taught him how to use it to slick up his cock, make the movement of hand over flesh smoother. He squeezes a load of it over his hand, covers his fingers in it. 

Dean kneels down again between his legs and grips the base of his cock with the un-lubricated hand. He slides the length into his mouth, swallowing around the head and almost making Cas come right then. Cas digs his hands into the bed sheets and twists at them. 

A finger probes at his ass, smoothing something kind of cold across the entrance. He squirms a little at the temperature but stills as Dean laps his tongue across the head of his cock. The finger dips in, sliding inside him with an unnatural sensation. Dean sucks hard on him, pulling his attention away as he adds another finger and twists them around one another inside him. It's uncomfortable and strange, but it's off-set by the warmth of Dean's mouth. 

There's a cold sensation again, more lube, fingers prying at him and opening him up. He relaxes and it starts to feel good. Dean's humming pleasurably around his cock, glancing up at him every now and then with impossibly black eyes. 

Dean lets out his cock with a wet pop. He grabs at a pillow and shoves it under Cas' ass, lifting him up a little. Cas knows what he's going to do, but it seems impossible that Dean will fit or that after all this time he's going to do this. He thinks he should turn over, but he trusts Dean will do it right, or at least trusts that he'll make it better if he doesn't. 

Dean lines up against him and covers the length of his cock in lube. Cas closes his eyes and wishes Dean's mouth were still wrapped around him, distracting him from the strange sensation. He tries to relax, but Dean's cock is thicker than his fingers and less pliable. For a moment he thinks he'll have to ask him to stop, but as Dean eases in further it changes, makes his cock strain hard. 

For the first time he watches Dean; he's holding back, Cas can almost feel the tension coming from him. It won't last long, Cas knows Dean's self-restraint is eroded. He's right and as Cas makes a noise of pleasure Dean slams forward, deep as he can get. There's a short burning sensation but Cas quickly forgets it. 

There is something moving in his room; it's quick and blurry.

Dean is pulling out of him now, 'so tight,' he says to himself, moving forward so he's now laying over Cas. 

'Dean,' Cas says urgently 'there's something...' 

'I know,' Dean says, 'don't look.' 

He forces himself to meet Dean's gaze, but it's unnervingly dark and he's glad when Dean pushes their mouths together, kissing him haltingly as he fucks him. Around them he can hear something low and rumbling, like a dog growling. 

'Dean,' Cas says, and above him Dean sighs. 

'Should have got here earlier,' he grumbles. He lifts his head and Cas sees that his features have twisted. It's a painting someone has made with gray finger-paint, smudges of muscle and expression. Cas' legs move impotently as he tries to move away. 'Hey, hey, it's okay. It's just me, I've got you. You're hallucinating.' 

Dean pulls out and shifts so that he's laying beside him and he holds him. Something deeply terrible is happening. Dean's arms pull him so close that he can feel the crush of his ribs. He can only pull in small breaths. The thing that's circling around his room his huffing out huge breaths and drawing them in with a growl. 

They both feel the weight of it when it climbs onto the bed. 'Close your eyes,' Dean says softly. His hand slips into Cas'.

And he does close his eyes.


End file.
